


Indulgences

by Novella_Winchester



Category: Vikings (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Gangsters, Alternate Universe - Mob, Bad Communication, Badass Reader, Childhood Friends, Childhood Memories, F/M, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Reader-Insert, Stubborn, Unrequited Crush, angsty kinda, but you love him, ivar's such an ass
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-06
Updated: 2018-11-20
Packaged: 2019-04-19 07:23:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,462
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14232231
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Novella_Winchester/pseuds/Novella_Winchester
Summary: You sigh and watch him step out from around the corner, black dress shoes shined so well the fluorescent light shines off of them. You can tell he tried to tame his hair, but it’s still fluffy on top, and a total contrast to the hard planes of his face and the ice in his eyes. He has a scowl planted firmly on his lips and you display one to match.“You know, I was doing just fine on my own.”He scoffs and slices the tape from your wrists. “Such a stubborn woman. And here I came all this way to rescue you.”





	1. Chapter 1

You woke strapped to a chair, right foot numb from the tight bindings and your head aching. Moving your neck from side to side, you let out a light groan. This definitely wasn’t a good start to your day, but then again, you had no idea whether it was day or night, so you put it down to yet another shit moment in all your bullshit time on this earth.

A hidden door swung open with a tired creak and you flexed your wrists experimentally against the duct tape binding them to the arms of the chair. Your fingers searched for any hint of a sharp edge on the chair. Heavy footsteps drew closer, and the door slammed shut with a resounding finality. You simply fixed your eyes on the wall and waited. 

Within a few seconds, a familiar head of perfectly coiffed blond hair rounded the corner. He smiled when he saw you, your eyes open and mouth twisted into a deep scowl. The man pulled up a chair in front of you and sat, lazily sprawling his limbs in a practiced casual pose and smiled.

“Finnegan. I knew I heard a rodent scurrying about in here.”

He only let out a little chuckle. “As polite as ever, (Y/n). And please, call me Finn, we’re about to be very well acquainted.”

You were practically snarling. “Bite me, dickwad.”

He just sighed and leaned back in his chair. “Don’t worry, I know you won’t tell me anything about their current movements (Y/n). You’re too stubborn and far too loyal. In fact, my boss doesn’t even know you’re here, strapped up all nice and pretty. But he allows me some indulgences, so it won’t be a problem.” You’re feeling pins and needles in your foot as he continues to speak, but you’ve always thought of the feeling as more like ants climbing over your body, burrowing into your skin as you sat still. His mouth twists a bit at your lack of response.

Finnegan shoves a hand through his hair and laughs, the pitch of his voice rising a bit. “And those fucking Lothbrok brothers, those pieces of shit you work for. You think they’ll come save you?” He stands and his hands slam down onto the arms of the chair. You see tiny beads of sweat forming on his upper lip. “To them you’re nothing but a fucking whore. In fact, I wonder how many of them you’ve taken into your cunt.” His fingers grasp your chin, forcing your head upwards. You notice his pupils are blown wide, swallowing the deep brown of his irises. “Well?” he asks, “How many, (Y/n)? Did you let them all fuck you at once?” Not a word.

Finally, he breaks. “Fucking ANSWER ME!”

You simply stare into his eyes with an even gaze. There’s a tense silence for a few moments, and then you open your mouth. Only to spit in his face.

He draws back and stares you down with incredulous eyes. And then, Finnegan begins to laugh. He scrubs your spit off his face and gives you that smile again, and if he wasn’t absolutely fucking insane it would probably melt your panties right off your legs.

Lightning fast, he backhands you across the cheek. Your head snaps to the side and you’re shocked for a moment. You can feel the sting of his gold ring on your cheekbone. “You dumb bitch. I would have let you live when I was done with you, but now it looks like I’m going to have to go with Plan B.”

He tears your shirt open, and your ears focus on the sound of the tiny white buttons hitting concrete. Your eyes are drawn to a movement in the corner of the room, just the barest shadow against the gray painted wall. And then, as Finnegan reaches for your chest you hear the faintest click, and his brain matter decorates the wall to your right. You lick your lips and taste copper. So much for Plan B.

You sigh and watch him step out from around the corner, black dress shoes shined so well the fluorescent light reflects off of them. You can tell he tried to tame his hair, but it’s still fluffy on top, and a total contrast to the hard planes of his face and the ice in his eyes. He has a scowl planted firmly on his lips and you display one to match.

“You know, I was doing just fine on my own.”

 

He scoffs and slices the tape from your wrists. “Such a stubborn woman. And here I came all this way to rescue you.” You take note of how his eyes linger on the curve of your breast in your open blouse for a moment before sliding away. 

When you stand your legs are a bit weak, and you stumble on your first step. Ivar’s arm wraps around your waist and you place an unconscious hand on his chest. Your lips curl in distaste. “Fucking bastard drugged me.” Straightening up, you pull the sides of your shirt together and tie them into a knot in a bid for some sort of coverage.

Ivar’s arm still curls around your hips, but when you look up at him he pulls away, turning his attention to Finnegan for the first time since he took the shot. He crouches down next to the body, at the same time placing a cigarette between his lips. Ivar’s brow furrows as he searches through Finnegan’s pockets for a few moments and then turns around to face you. In his hand he holds a slightly crumpled burgundy lace thong.

“You missing something?” He gives you a wolfish grin and half a laugh.

You snatch the garment from his fingers and your nose crinkles. “Ugh, what a creep. And this was one of my favorites too.”

Ivar stands as you shove the underwear into your back pocket. You snatch the lit cigarette out of his mouth and drop it on the concrete to stub it out under your shoe. You try and stare him down with a serious look.“Do you want to get cancer and die before fifty?”

He shrugs, but his lips turn up at the corners as he just pulls out another cigarette. “Don’t be such a nag, woman.” 

He takes a long drag and purposely blows the smoke out right above your head. You roll your eyes. “You’re such an ass.”

“You love it.” Ivar shoots you a lascivious smile and you try to ignore the spark it lights in your belly. He looks down to his phone and the moment is broken as he resumes his normal cold look. “Come, Hvitserk has the car around back.”

A pinprick of disappointment twisting your mouth into a frown, you allow him to pull you along.


	2. Chapter 2

When you were little, Ivar had trailed after you like a little lost puppy and a spoiled prince rolled into one. Being the youngest of four brothers, he was often left out of their games, and when you were introduced at six he latched onto you like a leech. 

He was possessive from the beginning and your skin was thick enough to match. Before you knew it he had firmly established himself in your life; bringing you into his house when your aunt was too busy with her newest future-ex-husband and you spent hours sitting on the swing in your front yard just staring into the distance. Pulling you into unwanted games with his brothers. Letting you spin him on the tire swing until he wanted to throw up and you were dizzy from laughing. He was the perfect playmate; observant enough to know when you needed someone, and selfish enough to covet your attention to the point that you felt needed.

The summer of your sixteenth year, standing outside your favorite ice cream parlor in the sun. Your shorts sticking to your bare legs, you had asked him to hold your cone and watched as the vanilla ice cream melted onto his hand while you took occasional bites. His only movement once you finished was to lick the remnants off his fingers, those blue eyes boring straight through yours. You had stopped testing his boundaries after that.

The blue-eyed boy, his brothers, their home, the view of his back as you chased behind him, his hands when they held yours. All became staples in your diet. An addiction.

[][][][][][][][][][][][][][]

Sigurd tapped your knee as you climbed into the car, a sly smile on his face. Ivar had not mentioned him earlier, and you realized why he had closed off so suddenly. The air between the two had always been tense, and for good reason. “Little (Y/n) got herself kidnapped again, eh? Needed Ivar to come save her from the big bad wolf, as per usual.”

You slapped his hand away from your leg and showed him your middle finger. “Fuck off Sigurd, your mommy’s glaring won’t stop me from breaking your nose.” Hvitserk stifled a laugh in the driver’s seat.

Sigurd laughed and his eyes slid over to Ivar. “You’ve got yourself a handful with this one, brother. She’d probably bite your dick off if you pulled her hair too hard.”

Rolling your eyes, you kicked out at this leg. “No no, that’s only for you, Siggy.” Out of your peripheral you spotted of Ivar’s grin.

“She is far too wild for you Sigurd,” Ivar stated. “(Y/n) would murder you before you could even drag her to your bed.” His hand landed on your thigh and gave it a firm squeeze. You allowed yourself to relish in his touch for exactly five seconds, and then pushed his hand away.

“Don’t handle me like a piece of meat, you dick.” Ivar had to gall to look abashed when you pushed him away.

Now Hvitserk laughed out loud. “(Y/n) could slaughter the both of you with a smile on her face and display your heads to father, and he would only laugh at your foolishness.” You grinned wide at that, not missing Ivar’s quick look in your direction.

That night, you sat in the unofficial Lothbrok boardroom, the place where all family meetings took place. Ragnar sat at the head of the table, his sons spread around him, and a few higher ranking family members purposely placed by order of favor. Practically an adopted Lothbrok, you held a position of high favor, the highest among the non-Ragnarssons: at Ivar’s right hand.

As you all sat, Ragnar had passed an appraising eye over you, and you were glad you had stopped at your house for a new shirt. There was a dangerous glint in his eye. “I trust whatever problem there was had been corrected.” You just nodded your head and he turned away, obviously finished with the subject. Under the table, Ivar’s hand squeezed yours, and you didn’t pull away. Some things never change. 

You struggled to listen attentively as they talked, but an insistent headache was eating your brain. You only snapped back to attention when Ragnar addressed you directly. “(Y/n), I have a task for you. I’m afraid the O’Kanes have been holding out on us, and I happen to know that the Old Man O’Kane has a liking for young, beautiful women.” You felt Ivar stiffen next to you.

Ragnar smiled and leaned back in his chair, and you didn’t miss the way he watched Ivar’s reaction. “He’s a cautious bastard, and impossible to get alone, but I fear his head’s getting a bit too big, and with all his success due to out arrangement.” You could practically hear Ivar’s teeth grinding. “It will only be for one night.” He glanced at his youngest son. “Ivar can even come too, as back up of course. I have total faith in your abilities.”

Unable to refuse, you nodded your head. Ragnar smiled and clapped his hands together as if you had already finished the task, but that became merely background noise to Ivar’s silent fury. 

The blue-eyed boy stared you down with that piercing gaze, and you avoided his eyes. You were sure you’d hear all about how he felt regarding your acceptance later, but for now you forced your thoughts toward the job.


	3. Chapter 3

You took the time to step carefully, hoping that the slow pace would give your walk a sultry confident air. Really, you were simply unused to the shy-high heels Aslaug had lent you. You normally tended toward the work done behind sound-proof doors rather than what fell upon women in slinky red dresses.

Ivar stood at the foot of the stairs, arms crossed over his chest and a scowl marring his face. He glared up at you with ice-like blue eyes, and you felt his gaze like fire burn the bare skin shown by two tall slits in the dress. He fell in step with you effortlessly as you descended the last stair, seething with ever-present anger, and you just keep your eyes forward. You only turned to look at him as he sat next to you, accompanied by the sound of the door slamming shut.

“Will you stop being so damn stubborn? You’re going to fuck this up and then Ragnar will have my head on a plate.”

Ivar scoffed. “If you had just done what I said I wouldn’t be angry in the first place.”

Crossing one leg over the other, you rolled your eyes. “Not everyone has your privileges, Ivar. My father isn’t ‘King,’ I can’t turn down his requests so easily.” 

“You could have let me turn it down for you.”

You threw a sharp glare in his direction. “I am not your woman, Ivar, and neither am I your property. I don’t need a white night and I refuse to show weakness in front of the Family because you think everything the light touches is yours!”

He smirked and laid a hand dangerously high on your thigh. Without even looking you could tell his eyes were narrowed and hungry, a wolf’s predatory gaze. “Not everything, love. Just you.” 

You forced down a blush and brushed his hand away but it was too late, he knew that he had fazed you. Even the tiniest bit of a retreat prompts him to push further. Trying to distract yourself, you tugged on a strand of your hair, twisting the curl Aslaug so carefully placed. “It’s just a honeypot anyways. Classic. Easy.” Hopefully. You were starting to get nervous as the reality of it set in. O’Kane was a picky man, and you were unused to attracting men on a deadline. The curl received another firm tug.

Ivar frowned and crossed his arms. “Still. He could have had Margarethe do it like usual. He’s just trying to piss me off. She’s more suited to the job, anyways.”

You grinned, but your eyes narrowed. “You trying to start a fucking fight?” Red-hot anger swallowed the butterflies fluttering around in your throat. You didn’t even notice Ivar’s smug look at your obvious change of temper. 

He really would rather you turn down the job, but if you were going to go through with it he didn’t want you walking in unprepared. He could see as you started to get nervous, working yourself up for failure when he was sure you would have no real trouble seducing the old man. And it had always held true that the easiest way to force you to forget your insecurities was to make you angry. That hadn’t changed since you were children. His woman had always had an aggressive streak. 

So Ivar just smiled as you glared at him until the car pulled up in front of an obnoxiously large mansion.

Your lip curled at the pristine fountain and white marble steps up to O’Kane’s house. He seemed just the type to splurge on the classically beautiful and immensely overplayed signatures of a rich man. The display certainly showcased a man more insecure in his wealth than anything. 

You stepped out of the car and didn’t spare a glance back at Ivar. His job tonight was to fade into the background and watch from afar, just another unapproachable businessman in an expensive suit to decorate the walls of O’Kane’s party. And so, you were to _pay no more attention to him than to a shadow or a light breeze.Tag_ Ragnar always was one for flowery words inserted inside a sticky situation. 

The scents of sugary alcohol and expensive cigars tickled your nose as you walked through the first rooms. Tilting women with shiny hair lounged on every surface, complemented by men in tailored suits and carefully shined shoes. The air held a feeling of sensuality, a sleepiness that spoke of drooping eyelids and straps slowly sliding off feminine shoulders. It seemed to lull you into a new state of mind: an extra sway in your hips, a darkness to your eyes, a slight tilt of your lips. Yes, this would work very well. The atmosphere seemed to have neatly molded to your purpose.

You grabbed a flute of champagne off the tray of a passing waiter and continued your aimless wander around the room until your eyes settled on him. A graying man in his sixties, predictably decorated in an expensive suit and a number of gold rings. He wore the kind of smile that was more of a leer, and you knew he had five beautifully curly-haired grandchildren, a wife, and two twenty-something-year-old girlfriends. A picture perfect nuclear family. 

O’Kane laughed loudly at something the man next to him had said and you nursed your glass, eyeing him from under your eyelashes. His head turned and your eyes met in an even stare. You held it for a second, let your lips curl into a small smile, and then looked down at your drink to focus on a lipstick smudge on the rim. You counted to ten and watched the bubbles float upwards before you glanced up again. O’Kane looked directly at you, his posture open and casual. You could see how he might be very handsome, but right now his heavy gaze just made you feel dirty. You never had liked men who looked people as if they were undressing them with their eyes. But a job is a job.

Meeting his gaze head on once again, you shifted against the wall, giving him your boldest stare. And it seemed to work well enough, as he clapped the man beside him on the back and stood. There was no rush to his movements. He had the walk of a man sure of something. 

You glanced away, trying not to look too eager, and spotted Ivar chatting up a tall blonde. His eyes darted over to you momentarily and you resisted the urge to roll your eyes.

Instead, you brought your gaze to the man who now stood in front of you, close enough that you could smell the smoke from his last cigarette.

“It’s rare to see such a beauty alone on a night like this.” 

You chuckled. “I was hoping not be on my own for long.” You almost cringed at the directness of your statement, but O’Kane’s smile only grew more wolfish. Good.

“It seems that hope was easily fulfilled.” He beckoned the bartender over with a wave of his hand. “Can I get you a drink?” His eyes traced over you breasts and down your hips. “Perhaps something a bit stronger than what you’ve got.”

“That sounds wonderful.” Setting the champagne flute down on the bar you leaned forward a bit, and O’Kane’s gaze grew more hungry. 

“I’m afraid I didn’t catch your name, Ms…”

“(Y/n).”

He lifted his drink to his lips and nodded. “Of course. A beautiful name for a beautiful woman.”

You feigned a laugh and rested your hand on his arm. “You flatter me too much. And you haven’t even given me your name yet.”

“John.” Johnathan Michael O’Kane on his birth certificate.

Leaning a bit closer to him, you brought your hand up to trace your fingernails over his chest. “Well John,” you purred, “I’m starting to get a bit bored here, Do you know of anything else we could do for fun in this big house?”

O’Kane grinned. “I have just the perfect thing in mind. I think you’ll enjoy it.”

You didn’t look back, but as O’Kane led you away you were sure of Ivar’s presence behind you, following like a shadow. You could almost feel his warmth at your back, see the scowl on his face, and those thoughts brought some small comfort to you as John O’Kane’s hand settled on your hip and he pulled you into his side.


End file.
